


Bullets Full Of Sugar

by hellhoundsprey



Series: fullofsugar!verse [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Consensual Underage Sex, Genderfluid Jared, Lolita Jared, M/M, Secret Relationship, Skidding The Edge Of Infidelity A Few Times, Switch Jared, Switch Jensen, Teacher Jensen, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Growing up, it seems like all that truly stays the same for Jared is his love for Jensen.





	Bullets Full Of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to [this beautiful playlist](http://explicitsoulmates.tumblr.com/post/161703142307/songs-full-of-sugar-a-fanmix-for-the-fosverse) Leila put together. Because somehow she managed to look into the future and pin down the perfect mood for this chapter.
> 
> If you have a problem with Mr. A taking it up the ass I have real bad news for you. 
> 
> Also, regarding the the infidelity-ish tag: teenagers do dumb shit. I was a teenager once, so I should know. It's part of Jared growing up and getting to know himself and what he wants, so shush, everyone's gonna be happy and perfectly fine.

 

Drum drum drum of rain all around them, rattling at windows and making the house groan, and Jared is peeling at his nails, eyes on the screen.

Nathan's about to get his dick out, it seems like, and Jared doesn't know what to say.

Kim's looking at him again, over Nathan's shoulder, like an invitation, a 'what's wrong with _him_ ' and Nathan asks if anyone needs some more beer.

God, did Jared ever.

“There y'go.”

“Thanks.”

Nathan slips his hand from Jared's to Jared's thigh, one finger into the squeeze between.

Jared squirms, and Kim smiles.

“Is it getting too much?”

“I dunno.”

“You can tell me. You wanna leave?”

Hesitant. “I dunno.” Gulp of beer, and Kim giggles for that. Jared flushes some more, eyes on Nathan like it'll do him any good. “Can I...can I just watch?”

“If you wanna.”

Jared nods.

Nathan's plucking his thighs apart, and Jared lets him.

Nathan's got the softest gruff of a voice Jared's allowed himself to get lost in, and when Nathan suggests how Jared could take his, “Clothes off though,” he does that.

They forget about him soon enough, legs closed and a shiver making his nipples ache, arms tucked around his knees and there's something sacred about watching his best friend banging his boyfriend. Because with the girls, he couldn't. Ever.

Nathan's got hooded endlessly-black eyes, like the home of stars and suns and moons, and he keeps holding Kim's hand while he reaches for Jared. Huffs his laugh when he gets a foot instead; kisses each toe.

Jared isn't proud or anything. It's not cheating. Nathan says so, and Nathan's got experience Jared can only dream of.

Nathan never asks for anything that makes Jared's stomach twist wrong. Everything it ever evokes is warmth, the deep-bellied kind, that make Jared want to arch his back some more, or rub his lips together.

Nathan's good at all kinda things, and Jared didn't know he'd need him, or someone like him, so much: he can cook, he can give the best foot massages, he knows how to repair a bike. He's saving for a motorbike, he says, and he'll always have two helmets so Kim or Jared can ride with him.

Jared feels special to be loved that much.

(Nathan's got a picture Jared took in Jensen's bathroom, at night, and he says that Jared's boyfriend whomever-that-might-be is such a lucky fucker to get to make his ass look this lovely-open, but that's only a picture, it's not real, and Jared wouldn't ever let him touch. Not that he had asked, not that he would.)

Jared is the big spoon for Kim's boyfriend on Kim's mattress in Kim's room in Kim's parents' basement, and Kim doesn't mind it a bit.

~

The world feels tipsiest when anchored only by Jensen's hands, locked tight around Jared's waist.

Jared's up to five feet nine and one-forty pounds, but when Jensen grabs hard enough he can still make his fingers meet.

Jared's brain has been on stand-by for a while, jaw hanging free like his dick; all-ears for the sharp clap of skin on skin and Jensen's love-you breath.

Things have gotten so much better since they started doing it, for real, that sometimes it's scaring Jared to the point of disbelief.

Like, there should be a catch to this, right?

Pinch me. Don't pinch me. I don't wanna wake up, ever.

Jensen is sweeter, more carefree. Gives away kisses and brushes of hands, and Jared doesn't barely have to ask for anything anymore because Jensen's thirsty like a dog. All concern he's got left for their 'situation' seems to be that he magically won't be able to get his dick into Jared as often and long as he might like; like Jared would have any reason to reject.

Mr. Ackles is turning another shade of silent, lately. The happy silence. The wordless kisses type of silence he snuggles into Jared afterwards, or in between (or beforehand, if he's got the patience for it). Makes pancakes and bacon for three and smiles while watching Jared devour his two thirds. Like a mom. Like a wife.

“Mh? Mmmh, you're my...girlfriend...boyfriend. That. Hm?” (It's mean, interrogating a napping Jensen, but he's got the sweetest scratch in his throat then, the bleariest eyes.)

“Say 'you're my sweet little kitten'.”

Jensen grins, eyes drifting shut, baby in his lap. “You're my sweet lil' kitten.”

“'You should let me suck your cock, kitten.'”

Jensen groans, laughs, and shimmies down the sofa like there's not even another choice.

Jared lets him slur through half of the words before he climbs up, pushes his panties aside; paws behind himself at Jensen's dick to keep him awake.

Jensen loves as slow and sweet as honey, and Jared's earned every lick.

~

Kim has fever-eyes, a smeared face. Marsh is supposed to pick them up in twenty minutes.

“You should kiss him.”

With a dick in him, Nathan always looks like he's crying.

He hasn't been looking away from Jared's eyes ever since he'd sunk down on Kim, but now there's words in there, or one, like a 'please' he's not supposed to know how to spell.

Obviously, Jared hasn't blinked in forever. (He's wearing panties today, under his skinny jeans, and decided he's not brave enough to let the couple know.)

Nathan is leaning a little bit closer, and it must hurt to want so much. Jared should know. (He does, he does.) Grasps Nathan's hand just to feel him thrumming, sweat and pulse and he's hiccuping in time with Kim's thrusts, so pretty and soft like nothing Jared's ever seen or knew or wanted, and he's wearing Jared's name on his mouth with his boyfriend making his cock drip all over his thighs.

Nathan's been kissing Jared on the neck for a while now, but they all do that. It's nothing special.

Jared leans close and for a while, he thinks it's gonna happen, that he wants this, and that it'll be okay.

But it doesn't, and he doesn't, and it won't.

Jared is swallowing Nathan's gasps and he's tasting him, a little, forehead to forehead and Jared eventually closes his eyes.

They won't talk about it. Kim won't ask again.

Jared's slipping one of Kim's tees over his head, and Kim's doing his best to braid some of his boyfriend's hair. Nathan's and his eyes meet, and Nathan sighs.

“Little one.”

“I feel like shit.”

“You shouldn't.”

“Well maybe I _should_ ,” Jared says, and yeah, fuck, he does. Feels it slamming in. Gets his wrist grabbed, struggles for a second or two just for show before he lets himself get dragged close, Nathan's arms around his hips and Nathan's face rubbed into his belly. Kim doesn't add to the scene.

“You're not doing anything wrong,” Jared hears, and aches. “Nothing's happening. You don't feel bad for jerking off, do you?”

Kim snorts, and Jared shakes his head.

Marsh lets her dad's car's horn blare in their secret code, outside.

~

All Jared has to do is breathe and Jensen is in pieces. Jared’s little dandelion, really.

For taking Jared to pieces on the other hand, all Jensen has to do is look at him.

Jared’s Medusa, lightning strike, chisel, bolt cutter.

Jensen’s face is _naked_ and Jared’s heart is this far from tearing itself apart.

“I slipped,” he tells his class, scratch-scratches at his raw chin (not even stubbled, just _there_ ). “Not really a choice. Half a mustache isn’t pretty.”

But _you_ , you are. Look ten years younger, so vulnerable, so beautiful, and there are freckles that I didn’t know about, let alone _kissed yet_.

It takes half a day of courage to send a text, two times five minutes in the restroom to work out the worst suddenly-there build-up Jared didn’t even fucking knew existed until he _does_. Jensen doesn’t respond; that’s okay. What counts is that he opens his door for Jared, every time, and that the flush on his face is so much more visible now.

“I thought you liked the beard,” murmurs a Jensen with Jared’s teeth holding on to his darling lip, the one with the freckle on just the inside, and with Jared’s spit on his teeth, the coffee-bitter corner of his mouth. It feels so wrong, like Jensen is another man altogether, so new, like something Jared wants to learn in and out, _now_ , and he crowds Jensen against the next-best wall.

Like someone’s pinching his insides, hands on warm, warm chest, cock already stretching the limits of these very fucking lewdly skinny jeans (“Uhm, are you _sure_ they fit, sweetheart?”) and Jared’s not even done getting hard.

He gasps something about wanting to feel Mr. Ackles bare all over, wants to lick and kiss every inch of his skin, and his little dandelion flutters and breaks against his mouth, his hands, and Jensen lets him rub their cheeks together. Heated little tomcats.

Jensen’s eyes are soaked by the time he stripped just like Jared told him to, flushes rash-red down his neck when kitten instructs, “Would you lie down for me, Mr. Ackles? On your back? Yeah, just like that. Now take your knees and pull them to—yes. Yes, just like that.”

To give Jared some credit here: this is not the first ass he waxed.

Jensen’s shivers and squirms nonetheless, of course, because kitten didn’t ask _if_. She just takes where he gives so very freely.

Jensen looks like the aged version of the twinks in Jared’s favorite videos, the ones you can tell took it up the ass for the better part of their only-just blossomed lives; the ones with assholes that have been turned out so often they look more like a pussy, lips and all.

But Jensen. Jensen is pucker-shy under Jared’s thumb and his breath hitches, kinda, and his eyes flutter close and he shivers, again. Jared forgets how to close his mouth and gawps. At Jensen’s lips—fat with blood and heat, so much more obvious without his beard balancing it all out; Jensen’s stripped, beautiful, beautiful skin and his eyes, the darkness of his lashes making them stand out on his pale-pale face, like Jensen’s a doll, Jared’s little Ken and Barbie all in one, and all Jared’s, Jared’s, Jared’s.

Jared isn't sure how they make it to the bedroom but he has the vague memory of tugging Jensen along. By his pinkie or something.

Jensen hesitates less compared to when it was 'only' about Jared’s mouth on his _cock_ , but god does he squirm more now. Pushes his fingers into and over Jared’s hair, and Jared’s eyes are wide and observing in wonder, in absolution, how Jensen’s lips part and shine and shudder under, “G-God, y’can’t jus’…it’s…that’s filthy, an’—uh, God, _fuck_ —“

Jared’s dick was raw before it rubbed against the inside of his fly, humping the mattress, but now it’s leaking, too.

He shoves his chin into Jensen’s taint, digs his fingers deeper to get a grip, to pull him apart some more. Jensen drops the talking then, switches to huffing, grunting: desperate man-noises, not girly at all _but_ _so soft_ , like his skin, like his insides, the fuck-pink of his mouth Jared imagines while swirling his tongue deep and deeper. Jared makes noises too, but he can’t remember what he sounds like afterwards. Has to use all his capacities to remember the noise Jensen makes when Jared crawls up his back spider-quick, feeds him his own taste and ruts into the softness of his wet ass.

“Your mouths feel just the same.” (That one makes Jensen sound like dying.) “Lemme sit on your face?”

Fever-ride, reverse cowgirl: Jensen’s hands in the backs of his own knees so Jared can finger his ass while he sucks his cock. Jensen is leaking at least as much as Jared and Jared is kind of dizzy, has a lump in his throat that isn’t his Mr. Ackles’ cockhead, not by far. Jensen makes noises like he’s the one hurting here, like it’s _him_ who has to process all of this, this gift, this secret. And it all was just an accident. He had it hidden all along and never felt like sharing the sight with Jared.

Jared has to acknowledge that something changed, was added, when he can’t keep his fingers away from either of Jensen’s new naked places; sweeps a thumb and tongue over Jensen’s cheeks (the parts that hollow out when he sucks kitten’s dick), makes him pant open-mouthed and pried open, two of Jared’s fingers lodged deep and holding, pulling, while Jensen fucks up into what always feels dangerously close to the back of Jared’s bellybutton. (Can’t unsee what has been unseen, unfeel what has been felt.)

Faster than usual, Jensen comes, unexpected and sudden, pulsing around Jared’s fingers so so hard that the same motion in his dick seems almost inadequate, like he’s coming more with his ass than with his dick, _like kitten, like a girl_ , and Jared only thinks these lines but they set his stomach on fire, make his nuts pull tight.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You shouldn’t swear.”

(Jared feels delirious, like something sucked him in, is chewing him up, up, up. His tongue feels heavy and he’s close to coming, somehow, but just not quite, no, there’s...)

Jensen is a mess, flops off Jared like a tired dog, is just as obedient and docile as one when Jared’s palm manipulates him into rolling to his belly; face turned sideways, still out of breath.

Jensen doesn’t get with Jared fumbling for the nightstand drawer with the condoms in it, only turns to look over his shoulder and see what is going on when he hears ripping plastic, the unfamiliar sound of his sweet kitten’s hand on her own dick.

He gets it then, though, and he falls and tenses and melts away all at the same time.

“Can I?”

Mr. Ackles makes that breathless tiny laugh, that choke, only that it sounds even tighter than usually, like he has no strength left to do it; and then he nods, just a little, strong, big hand reaching for Jared, a knee, a hand, whatever he can get.

Jared gives him the back of his hands, swings one leg over Jensen’s body, fits itself here—so much space but he fits; mouths at the back of Jensen’s neck, presses nose into trimmed hairline.

He feels animalistic. Ruts and slips, pointlessly, fruitlessly, but this is how it feels...right? Like he needs the time, like how he feels Jensen needs it, too. Jensen’s breath comes troubled with Jared’s weight on him, with the threat of getting fucked each time Jared’s cock seems to catch. He lubed up generously but Jared knows his teacher likes to be overwhelmed.

So when he angles up and then in, it’s sudden, he doesn’t ask again, just digs his knees into the bed deeper and pushes—presumably Jensen’s breath out of his lungs, takes up that space for himself instead.

It’s insane, this sensation. Something slipping over him like that, swallowing him up like that; nothing like a mouth, a throat. So much more tender here. More of Jensen’s secret places.

When Jensen whimpers, Jared stills; pulls back, just an inch, and that makes his man squirm and gasp in betrayal, like he can’t believe it’s possible to _feel_ that way (and Jared knows the feeling, oh, he knows), that Jared is doing this to him, that _anyone_ would.

Jared’s premature orgasm stutter-fucks him too deep too fast and Jensen kicks out, white-knuckled over Jared’s hands, and Jared moans into his ear, shoots his load deep and into the condom while he feels Jensen’s leak-squeezing out, running down his taint. Jensen milks him without knowing, with nothing but the flutter of his unpracticed insides, and there they are again, the faint little grunts, like he’s exhausted, like he enjoys, like he’s pleased.

Jared gasps around Jensen’s earlobe. Nibbles at it. Grinds his hips against the ass Jensen raises up for him at some point, like a gift, like _here, baby, it’s yours, have it._

He’s hard; again, still, no difference (no importance). New condom wrapper. Jensen’s back is slut-arched at the fresh, second slide inside but his face says ‘pain’ as much as the ‘o’ of his mouth says ‘more, I love you, don’t stop’.

A little longer this time. Come on. You can do it.

Eyes on the concentrated frown, the hitched shoulders; Jensen’s pink mouth grunting, “Uh, uh, uh,” like Jared’s dick is punching him good, hollows him out, girl-fucks him tender. Eyes on the stretch of ass around the base of his cock, shiny-lubed bare skin, rim of latex, Mr. Ackles all stiff and pussy-soft, clutching, tense.

A little longer this time, come on, not yet, not yet.

Quicker. Oh, that’s good.

“Ohmygod, ohshit, why’s it so fuckin’ big, shit, _shit_ —”

Red-hot tickle right over Jared’s cock at the praise like a lick into his slit but, “Don’t swear,” firm and desperately holding on, teeth grinding and hips snapping down, and no, not yet, not yet, not yet...

Jensen sobs. It’s not clear if he can tell Jared is coming, if he feels it like Jared can feel it when it’s the other way around, but it’s really Jared’s knees forcing his legs apart and up and awkward so his insides rearrange and force tighter around Jared’s cock. He tries to kick out again, tries to grab the sheets to pull away but Jared won’t let him, pins and climbs him like a monkey and squirms through his climax, his fourth for today and it’s almost dry but _addicting_ with the now added choke of Jensen’s guts.

Jared keeps his ear pressed to Jensen’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut; convulsing, growling, purring, something. Still holding Jensen’s hands.

He messes up pulling out this time and is hit by his failure, apologizes and Jensen calms him, says, “It’s okay,” says he’ll change the sheets later, don’t worry, don’t sweat it. Jared curls around him, both on their sides, and he’s small again here, fragile and bony, and tears up at the realization of what just happened, what he did, how happy he is.

“Baby.” Jensen wipes tears away, pouts his lips without knowing; he just does that. “Baby, it’s okay, hey, it’s okay.”

Some pillow talk later, Mr. Ackles confesses that it was ‘kind of hot’. Lopsided smile, like a schoolboy, hand caught in the cookie jar.

“God. Ruined you for good now, didn’t I?”

As if it wasn’t Jared’s idea to do this. Like it was Jensen who urged him on.

Kitten whispers, “I love you so much,” and Jared can’t stop running his fingers over Jensen’s bare, smiling face.

~

It's been so long since he's used a diary.

_you'll never guess what happened_

_what_

_I can't even say it_

_wow, that hot?_

Jared groans, shoves his hand into his underwear. Sniffs, because it's getting cold out and it's so wonderfully warm in his room (like a nest).

_pretty hot._  
_like, he let me do him._  
 _like._  
 _ass-do him._

“ _ass-do” wtf. who even are you._

_shut up I panicked_

_that's not even a word lmao_   
_but shit?? yeah?_   
_you liked it?_

_more like...died_

_haha that good?  
that's my girl._

Stroking his cock isn't as fun anymore, not after tonight—Jared can't seem to replicate the sensation of Mr. Ackles swallowing him all the way and definitely not make it as tight as _he_ could. Can't pinch the base of his cock anywhere close to that perfection and he's sniffing, again, teary-eyed now though.

_it was so so good_   
_I didn't know it would be_   
_I love him so much_   
_nate I'm so fucking scared_

_oooooooo here we go again_   
_you'll be perfectly fine_   
_trust me on this_   
_bet he loved it too_

Jared's shouldering tears from his cheeks, rubs precome back into his slit.

_he cried.  
said it's big._

_fuck._  
_yeah bet it is._  
 _you should sneak a pic sometime._  
 _of his ass or your dick or? I mean I'm not picky._

_jesus._

_haha too much?_

_a little_

_sorry_

_it's ok_

~

Hand loosely wrapped around it; in his princess room, on his princess sheets, like this is a shiny new toy and not his penis. Jensen did that to him. Makes him swell and puff his chest out, makes his dick so hard it won’t go down anymore now that it knows where it’s so much nicer than in Jared’s palm (or Jensen’s palm or mouth or throat).

“Is it really that big?”

“Bigger than mine. See?”

Jensen scoots closer so they are balls-to-balls, cocks stretching high but Jared’s really and truthfully just a little higher.

Jared gapes. Rubs his forefinger from slit to slit. Makes Jensen shiver and hold up both their dicks without a word so Jared can keep playing.

“I swear it grew since last time.”

A smirk pulls on Jensen’s mouth, doesn’t quite make it. “Bullshit.”

“I _swear_ ,” repeats kitten, pushes her ass off the bed to make her cock jut up even more. She adores the looks on Jensen’s face. Like he’s embarrassed to be outrun by a teen. Like he’s embarrassed to _enjoy it_. She urges, “I want to do it again,” just to see him lick his lips, still-bare face contorting like he’s trying to be good again, like back when he thought he could get through the mess that is Jared’s heart without, well, getting messy on the way.

“Please? Jus’ a little. Please.”

“...Fine.”

Endless pictures, ideas of what to do. Jared wants to ask for a double-dildo, wants Jensen to fuck back on it when Jared slides it between the two of them. Wants Jensen to wear the pink glass plug to class. Wants Jensen to suggest taking Jared’s dick bareback. Wants Jensen to want. Want _him_.

“Oh god oh god oh _god_ —”

“Don’t.” (Hips working, hair sticking to his face, royal blue glitter nails carving crescent moons into Jensen’s skin somewhere.) “Say my name. Say my name instead, Jen.”

And so sudden it’s, “Jared!” like it’s so simple, like all Jared has to do is ask and Jensen gets him everything.

Pretty Mr. Ackles, sweaty-exhausted from getting fucked up the ass, voice raw and ass slowly turning into a first shy shade of ‘used’, and he grits and sighs and groans Jared’s name like a prayer—good choir boy on all fours.

Jared is slowly losing confidence in building up his stamina, here.

~

Neon Demon is on: Marsha brought the DVD and is enrapt, front row in Hayley's arms. Jared is big-spooning Hayley in return, and Nathan is in the very back, breathing into Jared's hair. Jared's room may not be built for housing four guests and he may not have a sofa (and his bed is too small), but there's always, always a floor to occupy.

Hand cupping Hayley's navel, Jared tries not to be so hyper-aware of Nathan's hand on his hip, and how those fingers are fishing for the hem of his dress. It's slipped up, a little.

Jared's heart is hammering in his chest but everyone's seems to be, stacked so close and it's like they're one being, molten material and feeling the same.

Nathan's kisses are soundless, like breezes of air.

~

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Really really? I mean, I can't exactly stop halfway through.”

“Yah. No, it's—do it. Go for it.”

Kim shrugs, half at Jared and half at Nathan. “Alright then. Stick your tongue out.”

It hurts. So fucking much.

Jared is all sweat and tears when it's done, when the barbell is finally sitting in his flesh and he's throbbing from head to toe so bad that he's legitimately startled when Nathan pats his rock-hard dick, laughs for Jared's squeal of protest.

It's too cold out to drink this much ice water. Jared's bowels are hating him, right now.

“Should let me do your nipples too. That'd be hot.”

Jared shakes his head, lets Kim nuzzle the back of his neck though, laid out on his mattress after all.

“Or your dick,” smirks Nathan, and Jared flips him off.

He's getting in so much trouble. If Mom isn't breaking his neck, Jensen will.

Easier to hide it from Mom, though.

He slips out with Nathan. Neither of them likes to be outside alone anymore, not after what happened two months back. (They all had chipped in so Nate's mom could pay the hospital bill.) More fun, too, than being alone all the time. Jared's had that for way too long.

Hand in hand, people might say they're asking for it. But they're stronger together, can fight off a few people—the warmth is worth the danger.

It's only ten pm. “You mind if I come up for a while?” Jared shakes his head, tugs Nathan along, inside. Nathan hums, “Hey Mr. P,” into the living room, to the running TV.

Jared sneaks leftovers from the fridge, along with two plates, two forks, one bottle of soda. Doesn't realize he won't be chewing anything for a while now until they're upstairs already. He sets down the food on the bed while Nathan's strolling to the stereo, picks what turns out to be The Smiths.

Jared would interfere if he could speak, as it is just makes a face Nathan reads like a pro. He puts on Bowie's Pin Ups instead.

Nathan's straight away ignoring the food, going for Jared like he just can't help it.

One hand on his hip, the other nudging at his neck; “Lemme see. Hurts?”

Jared opens his mouth for damage inspection.

“Ouch.”

“Hew hwell we,” groans Jared.

Nathan chuckles, thumbs at Jared's chin to urge his mouth back open. Pulls Jared closer by the hip, crotches smushed together.

Nathan's blinking at the piercing like he's jealous. “He knows?”

Jared shakes his head. “Nh-nh.”

“You're gonna get your ass whooped, huh.”

Jared grins, mouth still open. “Hell yeah.”

Thank God there's a week between then and now, and Jared can talk without giving away any hints. Can small-talk with his love and tease his way out of kisses. Can make Jensen fall in lust with the piercing on first sight; first-dragged over his cockhead, metal against pearling precome.

Jensen isn't exactly jumping out of his skin but he's not getting angry either. Not at first. Gawps, stupid, maybe doesn't get it until kitten shows it off in one flat-tongued lap.

“Oh my god,” he shudders. “What did you do.”

“I'll get a crystal stud for it soon as I can.”

Jensen's This Is Not What I Meant gets nicely drowned out.

Jensen isn't complaining anymore by the time Jared's moaning on all fours.

~

“Can we go to the beach?”

“That's a little far...”

Jensen's throat clicks when he swallows, when kitten flirts her fingertips into the gap Jensen's open jacket leaves, in-between the buttons of his shirt.

“...don't you think?”

Jared smirks. “Then where're you taking me, Mister?”

“Wherever you want. Except the beach.”

Which is stupid. Because it's past dinner time already, and there's only so much Jensen is up to after dark.

Takes a while to get outside of town, to find a deserted spot. Jared uses the time to get his Mr. Ackles' dick out, tease it so he'll shoot in no time at all once Jared lets him up inside. So Jared can bend him over that much sooner, make him drool in the backseat.

That's the new ratio: two to one. Jensen's complaining in the tone of someone who doesn't want anything to change. New and so easy. Like he's wanted this forever but didn't have the balls to ask. (Which he swears is not the case, baby no, I just, it's weird, I don't know how to explain it, don't you like it?)

Some part of Jared missed the last growth spurt, and he's always hungry.

Balls-deep in his boyfriend, mouth on that now-sweaty neck, sucking and biting because it's his, his.

“I'll be eighteen next summer,” he slurs, isn't counting orgasms anymore because what the heck, who cares. “Then we can be together, right? Like, for real.”

Jensen's head bobs with approval and the impact of teenage-dick on his prostate.

Asking mid-fuck is as nasty as asking half-asleep, but Jared can't get enough of hearing it.

And it's not a lie. Not really. He's sure.

~

Marsha says she wants to go to the local college. Next year. Got in and all, already. It's a small town.

Haley, upon request, doesn't share much, shrugs shoulders and looks away and that usually means the worst. Means Europe or NYC or wherever fuck-far away Jared won't be able to afford driving to more than once a year.

With Jared's luck, Nathan is lying about not having yet decided either.

“Y'all gonna kill me. Leave me.”

“That's kinda harsh coming from someone who doesn't even know where he'll want to go.”

“Or what to do.”

Jared scowls, boxes the nearest shoulder before looming back over his Chemistry notes.

“Y'know we still love you, right?”

He snorts.

Haley drapes over his back, laughs her big sister laugh, nuzzles his neck.

~

They've been talking again, Jeff and him. Jared's been wearing more boy clothes lately and that might be the main and vain motivation, and it's okay. He doesn't want to fight. He's only got this one brother.

Mom is over in the home section, choosing new pillows with Meg, and Jeff and him are left in the dry goods. Jeff's frowning at the grocery list while Jared yawns, pushes the cart.

Everything is Jensen. That brand of coffee. That type of bread. Doesn't make things any easier (it's been five entire days and Jared's gone from exploding to accepting to that numb-itch that makes him want to shove something barbed up his dick).

Jared is pinching his arm for distraction and comes back to reality in the snack isle, with Jeff holding up the family-sized pack of salted nonsense. Shakes it some, like Jared's a disoriented pet.

“You still like these, right?” There's a pinch to it indicating that's not the first time he's asked.

Jared nods. Watches the fish-shaped crackers bustle against each other behind the plastic as they're dumped into the cart.

Jeff's taller than a tree, used to move around about as awkward as Jared. Filled out, lately, with all the Maybe I'll Get Into The Football Team enthusiasm. Because his new girl is into that.

Birds of a feather, huh.

Vinegar. Olive oil.

“You used to eat so much of them. Like, basically you were addicted.”

Jared hums.

“Remember? You asked for them as presents. For your birthday.”

Jared laughs. “Uh, sounds like me.”

That's when Jeff turns around to face him, first time ever since they got into the car. He's smiling too, that helpless kind they've all been born with, and he's patting Jared's cheek, arm reached out so far like he doesn't want to touch Jared, not really, but he _does_. And maybe it's a little too harsh of a gesture but it means everything and Jared doesn't mind at all.

Jared, he has that fantasy, you see. That they're out, family and all, and run into Jensen. Because, hell, the man has to buy his groceries too, right?

How that must feel. How it must feel for Jensen. Like dying ten times and coming back four.

What would Jensen do? Well, clearly try to be discreet. Maybe excuse himself, he's got something somewhere to go, Mrs. Padalecki, god, Mom would look him straight in the face and smile and know nothing, nothing.

Maybe Jensen is someone entirely else when he's not around Jared. Maybe, once Jared is out of his house, he's out of his world, too. Something temporarily, the two of them—some dirty little secret to keep in a shoe box under a bed. Something not meant to wear outside.

Jared's in complete boy camouflage and he's peeling at his colorless nails and probably, if they'd run into Jensen today, Jensen wouldn't even notice him.

~

Three weeks of being grounded and no Jensen make Jared a dull girl.

At least Mom lets him keep the piercing.

Locked into his room, heater on full blast, he quickly figures out that he has way too little of his pretty clothes over here. Everything's at Jensen's—neatly cleaned, ironed, folded, put away for Jared to slip into. At home, he has to make do with two bras, a handful of panties. And why the hell does he have...four pairs of heels in his closet? Jesus.

Jensen still has his aversion to texts. Nathan still replies in less than five minutes, no matter the hour of day.

_you know there are people who'd pay for this, right?_

_what  
like foot fetishists?_

_or shoe fetishists  
just sayin'_

Holy shit. There's people paying for photos of his feet. (Ankles too, sometimes a few inches of calves.)

Jared doesn't ask how Nate knows just the right sites and boards, the right chat rooms (which Jared only passively observes, for research reasons).

Not telling Jensen wouldn't exactly be cheating, right? Jared stays anonymous, he's two bony feet in size ten eight-inch heels, never flirting more than necessary.

It wouldn't be cheating, no, but Jensen will get suspicious anyway on Christmas, when Jared will present the watch he's intent on funding with his new, well...hobby.

Jensen's frowning deep, showered and fucked too much and it's only nine pm. Cradles Jared's foot like he's considering confiscating it.

“It was just supposed to be a joke,” Jared lies, curling his toes against Jensen's palm. “I'm not doing it anymore.” (As soon as I've got enough to pay for your watch.)

Jensen huffs (probably smells the lie), exhausted poor thing that he is (that Jared makes of him). He doesn't (can't?) look Jared in the eye, murmurs, “An' I can have it for free, huh.”

(Kitten's purring instantly.) “Well, not exactly.” Jared sprawls his too-long limbs out on Jen's bed, on his back and up on both elbows. Head lolling, mouth drawling, cock twitching. “You're working pretty hard for it.”

Jensen grunts, unwilling, but spreads his legs some more so Jared can fit more comfortably into the in-between.

Thing is: Jared's dick didn't get the memo that packing three weeks worth of sex into one evening might not be the healthiest idea. Not that his head did either, but hey. Teenagers, right? Puppy license.

Later, midnight-ish. Jensen's trying to sleep so desperately, barely moving while Jared is wide awake, cuddled up close. Just close enough to still be able to count freckles, just far enough so he doesn't feel like he's in Jensen's heart, or anywhere close to that.

“Still love me?”

“Guh...yeah but can't we just sleep? Jesusc'mon.”

“Don't you?”

“Kiddo... Yeah. Yeah I do.” (Half-snored, frowning.)

“Really?”

“Jared.”

Two-armed wrap, crushing Jared just like Jensen always could (seemed easier when Jared used to be smaller). Whisper-lulled into loose hairs, so low and growled it brings tears to Jared's eyes.

“Jared. Baby. Sweetheart. How often do you want me to say it. How much more proof? I love you. I love you I love you I love you, to the moon and back, whatever. Love that you're annoying the shit out of me. Love that you're making me lose my mind. So for the love of God, Jared Tristan. Go to sleep.”

Jared can only make out half of it all. And he thinks that yeah, no, it _will_ never be enough. He'll never tire of hearing this.

Jared brushes all that hair out of his boyfriend's face, kisses his nose, his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers around his smile, “you get three hours.”

Jensen's so far gone he doesn't even stir anymore, which immensely assists an impromptu ring size measurement.


End file.
